Rival
by Erriel
Summary: Gary’s little “change of heart” after the Johto League got me thinking. Just a brief look into what might be the story behind it.


** Rival**

* * *

I was trying to sweep the walkway when they arrived. "Trying" really being the best word to describe it. My pudgy four year-old hands could barely grasp the broom handle, much less drag it all the way across the path. Gramps had given me the chore for the sole reason of getting me out of his hair, but even then, I hated to turn down a challenge. 

So there I was, hugging the broom with my arms and tugging it back and forth, when a huge clatter sounded down the hill. A moving van was clunking its way into town. Tied to its back, I saw with interest, was a rusty old tricycle. 

There weren't many kids my age in sleepy old Pallet. I dropped my broom without hesitation and took off down the hill.

"Whoa!" Gramps cried as I raced past, nearly knocking him over. "Finished sweeping already?"

I was so excited I could barely get out the words "van," "neighbors," and "kid." Gramps just laughed and put a hand on my shoulder. "Let me finish feeding these Pokémon," he said. "Then we'll go down together." 

When we finally did get there, I was pretty confused. There seemed to be only one new neighbor, and a grown-up lady at that. I was wondering how she managed to fit on the tricyle when she bent down and gave me this big smile.

"Why, aren't you sweet?" she beamed, patting me on the head. "What's your name, dear?" 

"Gary," I said.

"Why, isn't this wonderful! You look about the same age as my own little boy! You two are going to be the best of friends. Isn't that right, sweetie?"

I looked around to see who she was talking to. There wasn't another kid in sight. 

"It's all right," the lady said happily, reaching a hand behind her back. "You can come out now." 

Slowly, a tuft of black hair peeked out from behind the lady's arm. It was followed by two dark eyes, and finally a small boy in a yellow shirt. He stared at me for a while, not saying a thing. His thumb hovered dangerously close to his mouth. 

"Go on," his mom said, giving him a little nudge. The black-haired boy took a tentative step, tripped, and fell into the dirt. Tears filled his large eyes, ready to spill out at a moment's notice.

I didn't stop to think about it. Stepping forward, I reached out a hand.

The boy looked up, lip quivering. Slowly, he put his hand in my own.

"My name's Gary," I said as I pulled him to his feet. "Don't worry. I'm going to be your best friend."

A big gin lit up the kid's face. "Okay! I'm Ash."

* * *

And we really did become best friends. Ash didn't stay in tears for very long. In no time at all, he'd opened up to everybody in town, me most of all. More often than not, you could see the two of us racing up and down the road on the tricyle; me pedaling madly and him hanging onto the back. 

Lots of times, the trike would tip over and send us both crashing into the dirt. We got ourselves plenty of scrapes and bruises that way. Ash would be the one who'd laugh and pick the tricyle up, I was the one who ran for the bandages. It was the same way with a lot of other things, too. Ash rode in the wagons, I pulled him up the hill. He sat in the swings, I pushed him as high as he could go. 

I was never actually sure why it always turned out that way. Maybe it was Ash's innocence, the openness and naivety with which he faced life. He forgot to think things through sometimes, and I was only too happy to do it for him. With Gramps in his lab all day and Mom and Dad long gone, Ash was the only person who really needed me. 

As time went on, we beat all the challenges together. We made makeshift boards to slide down hills, built a whole village of treehouses, and raised enough ruckuses to get Gramps addicted to aspirin. Some people took to calling us the "terrible twins" and rued the day the Ketchums moved to Pallet. As for me and Ash, we'd grin and go right on wrecking havoc. There wasn't ever a time we doubted we _wouldn't _be doing something together. 

"Hey, Gary," Ash said one balmy spring day. We were fishing in the creek by the old bridge, but hadn't found a single Water Pokémon in several hours. Laying down his pole, Ash fell back onto the grass and gazed up at the sky. "When we're older, let's go somewhere together and have big adventures! Just you and me."

I laughed at this and put down my pole as well. "Gary Oak and Ash Ketchum, taking the world by storm. We'll go everywhere…"

"…see everything…" Ash jumped in.

"…and everybody'll know our names, no matter where we are." Flipping back a shock of hair, I grinned broadly. "They'll talk about all the great things we've done…"

"…like saving the world…"

"…and sticking together through it all."

And as we laughed, it seemed as though, someday, we could actually made those dreams real. 

* * *

On Ash's birthday, I usually went over and played at his house. But one year, his mom was busy preparing for the party and wanted both of us out while she finished up. 

"Let's go to the park," I said excitedly as Ash and I walked out the door. "We can stop at my house and get my soccer ball." 

As we neared the lab, however, we were blocked by a huge throng of people standing by the doorstep. Getting onto our hands and knees, we shoved and squeezed our way to the very front of the crowd. "What's goin' on?" Ash whispered to me in confusion.

Gramps was standing on the doorstep in his best lab coat, along with three kids, two girls and a boy, who were all older than both Ash and me. One by one, he leaned over and deposited a shiny red-and-white ball into the kids' outstretched hands. Both the girls grinned, and the boy let out a whoop of a delight. Stepping forward, he tossed the ball into the air. The two girls did the same.

Clicking open, the three balls released streams of red light. When the spots had cleared from my eyes, three young Pokémon were standing next to the kids.

Ash pushed past me for a better look. "Wow!" he enthused. "Did'ya see that?"

One of the Pokémon, a chubby Squirtle, blinked twice. "Squirtle squirtle?" it said as it waddled forward. Ash nearly tripped over my hands as he tried to get closer. 

"Hi!" he called, waving wildly. The Squirtle turned in his direction, then shot a jet of water directly at Ash's face. Clothes dripping and hair drenched, Ash staggered to his feet. "That's so cool!" he cried, eyes shining. "How'd he do that?"

"Squirtle is a Water Pokémon," Gramps explained as the Squirtle waddled back to its new owner. "In the wild, it uses Water Guns such as what you just experienced to defend itself, or even attack other Pokémon." 

"And what about that one? And that one?" Ash's hand pointed to first the Bulbasaur, then the Charmander. "Can they do stuff like that, too?"

As Gramps launched into another one of his lectures, I tugged at Ash's sleeve. "Do you still want to go to the park?" I hissed in his ear.

Ash waved this off without even looking in my direction. "Later. Hey, Professor Oak, when can I have a Squirtle, too?"

We never did go to the park, and Ash spent the entire day chattering about what Gramps had said. "You know, Pokémon trainers get to go all around the world!" he managed through a mouthful of chocolate cake. "They see all kinds of Pokémon who can do all kinds of things. And they fight each other in these really cool battles that…" 

"It's nice to see you've taken an interest in Pokémon training, dear," Ash's mom smiled at him. "Would you like some ice cream, Gary?"

"There's nothing that special about Pokémon," I said sullenly as I took a bowl of mint chocolate chip. "Gramps has a ton of them in our backyard. You can help me feed them this afternoon if you want."

Ash's eyes were blazing with a passion that I'd never seen before. "When I'm ten," he announced, spraying cake crumbs all over the table, "I'm going to be a trainer, no question! I'll beat everybody and be the best of them all! The very best that ever was!" 

Ash's mother beamed some more, and I sighed. I had a sinking feeling this was going to get very old, very fast. 

The next day, I invited Ash over to my house. We played the new board game I'd gotten him for about an hour, until Gramps happened to come in. Ash jumped up right away, nearly overturning the board.

"Hey, Professor Oak!" he called. "Did you get any more Pokémon yet?"

Gramps smiled kindly. "Afraid not, Ash," he replied. "But you're welcome to meet the ones I already have."

Ash bounced off the floor as Gramps led the way into the yard. I followed at a much slower pace. While Ash patted, scrutinized, and inquired about every single Pokémon he found, I waited by the fence and scuffed my sneaker impatiently against the ground. I'd been back here countless times, and the familiar scene held none of the wonder for me as it obviously did for Ash. 

As my best friend chased a Pidgey and had staring contests with a Metapod, I watched with a mixture of outright boredom and exasperation. We'd been here for several hours already, and Ash still showed no sign of wanting to leave. Feeling cheated out of a perfectly nice day, I leaned against the fence post and let my head fall against my chest.

A shadow fell over the patch of ground I was staring at. "Isn't it nice to see Ash so excited about Pokémon?" Gramps asked as I looked up. 

"Just great," I mumbled back.

Gramps chuckled at my reaction. "Strange, though," he remarked. "I always thought you, Gary, would be the one who'd take the most liking to Pokémon. After all, you were the one who grew up with them. Guess there are no guarantees in this world."

As Ash raced past to keep pace with a galloping Ponyta, I bit my lip. "Who said I don't like Pokémon?" I made myself ask. "I like them just as much as he does. I want to learn about them, too. Maybe…maybe I'll even be a trainer myself. Yeah, that's right. I'll go tell Ash now."

When I marched up and repeated this to Ash, he gazed at me with heartfelt delight shining in his eyes. "You want to be a trainer, too?" he cried. "Then it all works out great! We can go for all our badges together and…" Suddenly, his face fell. "One problem though."

"What?" I demanded defensively. 

"Well, there can only be one best trainer in the world. Because it's…well, you know…one best trainer. And that's gonna be me."

To Ash's credit, he did look kind of regretful saying this. But not nearly as regretful as somebody who'd just gone back on years and years of carefully-crafted dreams and promises.

"Ha!" I shot back at him. "We'll see who's really the best!"

"We will!" Ash declared. Seeing the expression on my face, he stuck his hand out and tapped me on the shoulder. "Race you back to my house, Gary!"

He had a head-start, but I put on an extra burst of speed and won. 

* * *

Over the next few months, I spent most of my spare time working with Gramps in the lab or reading the stacks of thick, dusty books he loaned me. I hated working inside on all those beautiful days, and the books were dull and made me sneeze. But I had challenged myself to this, and I wasn't going to give in. 

Some of the things I learned were pretty interesting. As Gramps pondered the miraculous evolution of a Magikarp, I pondered right along with him. And if one book mentioned something interesting about Fire Stones, I'd go searching through all the others trying to find out more. 

Despite all this, I still couldn't figure out the appeal Pokémon training had with Ash and so many other kids. Maybe it was the battles and championships with all their glory, or independence you got on the open road. Whatever it was, it was something all my information-gathering just wasn't revealing. 

All my studying, though, did pay off in one way. I started knowing more about Pokémon than most of my peers. While this pleased Gramps, he wasn't the one I cared about most.

It was when Ash pointed out something I didn't know that I'd stay up all night in Gramps' library becoming even more of an expert. When he faltered with a fact, I always butted in with the right answer. It was kind of like a game, to see who'd come out on top. And I took every measure possible to make sure it'd be me. 

Ash didn't mind so much at first. He was even proud of me. "That's my friend, Gary Oak the genius," he'd announce whenever we met somebody new. And I'd shrug and grin, basking in his casual praise all the while. 

But even as a Pokémon genius, I couldn't seem to win back Ash's attention. I could toss out battle tips and statistics all day long, and Ash would only nod and go back to planning his solo career as a Pokémon Master. Gone were the days where we'd ride our bikes down the hill and discuss our dreams together. Ash had dreams, alright, but all of them left me out of the picture. 

"And then I'll knock him out with my ultra-powerful Dragonite and the judge will give me the trophy, and everybody will be cheering my name!" he announced once, at the end of a particularly long rant.

"Everybody includes me, I'm guessing?" I said.

Ash's face went blank for a moment. "Uh…sure," he shrugged. "Or you could be the guy I pummel for the victory," he offered generously. 

"In your dreams, Ketchum. You're the one _I'm _taking down!"

"No way!"

In a way, this competitive banter was the only way I could get Ash to keep me in his field of view. As a friend, I was easily cast aside. As a rival, there was no way my presence could be forgotten. 

And as Ash grew increasingly involved in his mission for Pokémon masterdom, I shamelessly intensified the rivalry between us. Mild teasing progressed to outright taunting, jokes for both of us to laugh over became insults no one found funny.

It'd be a lie to say I didn't want to discourage or even hurt him. Hadn't Ash betrayed me from the start? After all our talk about sticking together, he'd dropped me for one impulsive fantasy. And that hurt a heck of a lot worse than any number of words. 

The taunting got nastier, the insults acidic. Anything retort or protest Ash gave, any defense made for his ability, just made me angrier. _ Why won't you just give it up? _I wanted to yell at him. _Pokémon master this, Pokémon master that! Why is something like _this_ so important to you?_

When we were finally old enough to receive our Pokémon licenses, Ash's quest had become, if anything, even more fervent. I fully expected him to show up at the crack of dawn and camp outside our door. But even as I filed out, even as two other kids arrived, and even as a crowd began to form around the lab, Ash did not arrive.

While Gramps handed out PokéBalls to two of the other trainers-to-be, I hung back and stalled as I long as I could. Ash was still nowhere in sight. Had he given up on Pokémon training at last? 

Even after Gramps gave me my new Pokémon, I made a point of sticking around outside. Inventing some elaborate farewell speech on the top of my head, I was right in the middle when a streak of green barreled through and almost knocked me down. 

Ash. In his pajamas. Apparently as eager as ever to be a Pokémon trainer.

I sneered and kept up my show of cocky bravado, despite the anger forming on Ash's groggy face. _Embarrassed on your big_ _day, Ash? Well, good. Maybe you should turn back now. Never start at all._

As I sat down in the car and left Pallet in a swirl of dust, I chanced just one look over my shoulder. 

Ash. Going up to Gramps. Apparently not deterred a bit.

* * *

Over the next few years, I ran into Ash a couple times. It was kind of sad, how quickly he replaced me with new friends. Despite all of my own journeying, I never found any real companions. Instead, I struck out by myself and spent every waking hour catching and training new Pokémon.

I used all the tips I'd read about in the trainers' manuals: collecting different types, rotating my team, always making sure to treat my Pokémon with a reasonable degree of fairness. I thought of every possible technique I could use to succeed as a trainer and took pains to do them all.

And then there were the other, crueler things: surrounding myself in admirers, adopting an air of arrogance, putting Ash down every chance I had. All of it was geared towards one real goal. I wanted to present a strong threat to my former friend, and I went to any lengths to do it. As always, I was too proud...too worried...to back down.

Battles came, competitions went. I grit my teeth and struggled through the ranks. I even managed to beat Ash once, but scored lower than him in the Pokémon League.

"You have excellent strategy, Gary," Gramps had told me after that defeat. "No doubt about it. But Ash has the heart to win, and you don't quite yet. To you, training is a task. To him, it's an adventure." 

The old man knew me better than anyone else. He even sent me off the Orange Islands for a breather. And, after a while, the initial anguish began to dull. Betrayed or not, I couldn't manage to stay angry at Ash my entire life. Despite all the abuse I'd first put him through, he was still my best friend. Whether or not I was still his, on the other hand, was a question I was afraid to ask.

We met again at the Johto League Silver Conference for our first official battle. The match was a long, involved six-on-six. I threw out some of the most powerful Pokémon I owned and braced myself for the results. Ash got me down to my last Pokémon, Blastoise, and I to his, a Charizard. When the dust all cleared, however, the end was nothing like I'd suspected.

Blastoise had fainted. I had lost. But what was most surprising of all was Ash.

He didn't cheer. He didn't shout out in triumph. Instead, he just stood there as if his limbs were locked in place, mouth half-open in complete shock. "I…beat Gary?" he whispered, face blanching incredulously. 

It was all I could manage to turn away and go down the podium steps. As I walked out of the stadium, I could hear Ash whooping and exclaiming in joy. I quickened my pace, but I never forgot his first and foremost reaction. 

Later that day, after the sun had set and the grounds had shut down for the night, I jogged out to a nearby pond. I sat there for a while, bouncing pebbles off the surface just like Ash and I used to do back home. It gave me a chance to think, free from the stress of the tournament and my original disappointment. 

Ash had never been good at hiding his emotions. Even though I'd lost at the Pokémon League and had been proved inferior more ways than one, the disbelief on his face after beating me had been one-hundred percent genuine. But why?

Grass crunched underfoot as someone ran up beside me. I half-turned, and saw Ash standing there, lucky League hat perched on his wild black hair. And despite everything, I found myself breaking into a rare smile.

It was then I knew that Ash had never really forgotten. Pokémon journey or no Pokémon journey, he had still kept the same respect for me he'd always had. Not just as a talented opponent, but as a person he had looked up to all throughout our friendship. Because I was still his friend, he'd looked past all the horrible things I'd said. Because I was still his friend, he had come looking for me after I'd lost the match.

Pokémon training didn't seem important then. Nor did the fact that I'd spent the last three years slaving away at something I never really cared about. And for the first time, probably ever in my life, I didn't feel so bad about losing. 

"I'll cheer for you in your next match," I told him earnestly. And that familiar all-over-the-face grin was worth it all.

Our promise to stay together had never really been broken. As Ash's rival, I'd been given the motivation to strive for the best, and everything I'd done had only made him more eager to fight. Together, we'd both come closer and closer to the top. And even if we weren't always rivals, I knew we'd keep on pushing each other. Maybe not by presenting direct challenges, but by giving encouragement and support. 

It was then and there I decided to quit Pokémon training and take up something I found much more intriguing: research work. As Gramps had guessed, Pokémon mastery had never been my real goal. And now, I realized I no longer needed it. 

Remembering the times when I pushed Ash on the swings or took his hand to cross the street, I know so much of my life has been built on Ash needing me. That was why I needed _him _most of all. It took me several years to learn, but there's more than one way of sticking together.

* * *

_ Don't worry, I'll be your best friend._

_And I'll stay that way, too. _


End file.
